Memoirs.

Here's a little ditty from my childhood...

...I'm going to set up all the facts for you, so you may be better prepared as a reader and understand the context. You're welcome.


Fact #1 - We were dirt poor growing up.
Fact #2 - My Mom has always had a desire to be a rural pioneer woman.
Fact #3 - Our family car, for a majority of my childhood, was a teal Geo Metro (more detailed physical description given in following text).

STOP


This is the best look-alike I could find.


Fact #4 - Often, growing up, we frequented livestock auctions as a form of "family entertainment".
Fact #5 - One time, my Mom bought a cow at an above mentioned auction.

STOP


This is a baby cow, similar to the one who is going to be the leading character in this story.



Now that you have the facts, let me tell you how this all went down.

It was just another night at at the barn/amphitheater/auction house, and the bidding wars were getting heated.

"$100!"

"$250!"

"$500!"

Huge bids were flying and prized animals were being sold to downright serious farmers. Plaid. Jeans. Ginormous belt buckles and hats. It was quite the scene.

A small group of calves came out to be auctioned later in the evening. The calf we ended up buying could be likened to the smallest, weakest child who was picked last for a game of dodgeball in an elementary school playground.

I can't recall where the actual bidding began, but I can remember what price it ended on.

"$7!"

Mom's hand was the only one up; she got gutsy and just went for it. All the farmers stepped down from the bid. The little runt calf would be no use to them, plus they could see the sparkle in Mom's eye.

"Sold!"

So, my Mom compulsively bought a $7 baby cow at a livestock auction that day.


We certainly weren't in a place to be making such a purchase (as far as where we would actually store the calf). We lived in a cul-de-sac in a little suburb of Southern Oregon, and there was NO WAY that thing would fit in the Geo Metro.

False.

Quick sidebar: our Geo Metro came equipped with luxury seating. The front passenger side seat somehow got broke, and had to always be in the reclined position. The headrest on the driver's seat also bent back like a limp noodle.



Next steps...

...we pushed the calf over to Mom's side of the Geo in the backseat so it had some space, and my brother sat behind me, so he got squished by me in the front reclined passenger seat.

We knew that if we could just make it home and then figure out some kind of makeshift living area for the cow, we'd be in business. We, unfortunately, only made it into the driveway of our house when the calf had an episode of explosive diarrhea in the backseat with my poor, frantic brother.

The calf was dehydrated and nervous, so we had to buy it a cow-version of Gatorade to help the situation out.


From there, the story is all a blur in my mind. I know that we eventually found an actual farm location to keep the little guy at, and we eventually gave the cow to my Grandpa for Father's Day. Nothing says "Happy Father's Day" more than an unwanted barnyard animal.


That's a tale I love sharing with people. So many funny things happen when you're forced to be creative in your ways of having fun.

Thanks for buying the $7 cow, Mom. The story shall always be told in all it's glory.